by Wendi Dass
Sister Maria raised an eyebrow, breaking her stoic expression.
That Sarah once thought this woman incapable of a smile was hard to believe. She knew better now.
“I wanted to ask you about one other matter,” she said. “The Christmas play—any chance you’d be interested in assuming Anna’s role as director?”
Sarah couldn’t help but jerk back. Her? Director? She was about as good on stage as Lucia. Or rather, how Lucia used to be. “I…um…”
“Mr. Moretti has offered to help more as well.”
Mr. Moretti? Sarah swallowed hard against a wave of nausea. Ah, hell. He was the last person she wanted to see more of. She opened her mouth to respond—with what, she didn’t know.
“If you’re not inclined, that’s fine.”
Thank God. Sarah exhaled. “Not really.”
“But I have another idea for you, now that the backdrops are done.”
Sarah shot up an eyebrow.
“I thought you might like to offer art classes. Give the students another option for after-school activities.”
“Art?” Sarah shifted forward to the edge of her seat. “Really?”
Sister Maria nodded.
She could have the students make clay models of their favorite Roman busts—maybe even take a field trip to visit galleries. They could sit in the courtyard and sketch the fountain, or even walk to the nearby overlook of Rome and capture the view in acrylics…or watercolors.
“That…that would be wonderful.” Sarah couldn’t contain the enthusiasm in her voice.
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.” Sister Maria stood and headed toward the door.
Sarah followed, noting Sister Maria’s feet gliding under her black gown. Her dress, like her austere expressions, masked a compassionate woman beneath. Sarah’s fingers tingled. Would she have ended up with Eduardo without Sister Maria’s help? Would she even be in Rome? She paused at the door. “Sister?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. Thank you for everything.” She embraced Sister Maria, her friend and her confidante.
****
Later that week, Sarah sat beside Eduardo as he drove the car. With a phone to her ear, Sarah rolled her eyes and tipped her head side to side.
“Are you sure you two don’t want to stay here?” Mom asked.
“I’m sure, Mom. Eduardo’s already booked a hotel.”
Eduardo silently mouthed something.
Sarah didn’t catch his words. “He needs to be close to his business meetings,” she fibbed.
Eduardo cleared his throat. “We can stay there,” he said in a raised whisper.
Sarah widened her eyes, covered the receiver, and shot him a glare.
“What was that Eduardo said?” Mom asked.
“Nothing.” Sarah furrowed her brows and flashed Eduardo a reprimanding stare.
“I could have sworn—”
“He was just reminding me we have to get to our appointment.” Eduardo chuckled and rolled his eyes.
“All right, dear. I hope it’s about the wedding.”
“Uh…” Sarah stumbled on her words. She planned to tell Mom about the pregnancy during next month’s visit. Hopefully, she’d have answers for the wedding interrogation then. “Something like that, yes.”
“See you in a few weeks then. Love you.”
“Yes. See you.”
Eduardo twisted his smile into a frown.
Be nice to your mother was written all over his face. Sarah brought the phone back to her ear. In all her mother’s prodding, all her snooping, had she ever had anything but Sarah’s best interests in mind? Why did Eduardo always have to be right?
Well, he did err, gravely, she might add, in his preference of Verdi to Puccini.
“I love you, too, Mom,” she said. “And I know I don’t say it enough, but I hope you know I appreciate everything you do. I mean, who else can say her mom and her nun-boss united for a match-making feat?”
Mom laughed. “The same dynamic duo is ready to play wedding planner.”
“Right, Mom.” Exactly why she hadn’t told her mother about the baby. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”
Sarah ended the call and shook her head. Mom was sure to be dialing Sister Maria this very minute, initiating another meddlesome operation.
Eduardo parked the car in front of a small stone building.
Sarah couldn’t quite translate the sign, but she didn’t need to. She’d been there before. Her calmness quickly gave way to anxiousness, and her stomach—or was it the baby?—grumbled in protest.
Eduardo placed a hand on her knee. “I’m excited, aren’t you?”
Sarah nodded and instinctively placed a hand on her swollen belly. Today was a big day. Not as nerve-wracking as their first visit, when the doctor confirmed the pregnancy, but one every parent anticipated.
Eduardo covered her hand with his. “I think the baby’s a boy.” He grinned and puffed his chest. “With Rossini good-looks, for sure.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Let’s just hope he, or she, doesn’t have your appetite, else we’ll have to buy a second refrigerator.”
He winked. “Nothing wrong with that.” Eduardo exited the car and trotted around to the passenger side.
He took her hand as he helped her out. “Eduardo”—Sarah grabbed his hand—“do you think Lucia will mind if the baby isn’t a girl? I know how much she has her heart set on a sister.”
Eduardo kissed her forehead. “I don’t think she’ll mind at all.”
Sarah squeezed his hand and followed him inside.
Like every other obstetrician’s office Sarah was in, fetal development charts and pictures of content mothers hung on the walls. The medicinal scent of rubbing alcohol and latex gloves lingered in the air. The vinyl fabric on the exam table was the same, too. Sarah eased onto it, the coolness of the table sending a shiver up her spine. She stiffened.
Eduardo grasped her hand. “Relax. Rossini good looks, remember?”
Sarah opened her mouth to laugh, but only a shaky exhalation came out. What if the baby’s heart beat too slowly? What if he was too small? Too big?
Cold gel shocked her skin, followed by an uncomfortable pressure. A loud swooshing sound filled the room then went quiet. More swooshing, then—
Sarah gasped. The sound was more beautiful than Eduardo’s tenor and more resonate than Meredith’s vibrato.
A heartbeat.
The heartbeat was soft and fast, like a hummingbird’s wings. Sarah waited years to hear that heartbeat and thought she might never hear it.
The technician pressed a button and images displayed on a screen. Sarah adjusted her gaze to the fuzzy outlines—the white dancing on black. The motion on the screen was so different from the photos Meredith showed her of Amber and Steven in utero. The life inside Sarah wriggled and squirmed, kicked and poked. All the while, the heartbeat pulsed—sometimes hurried, and other times slowed.
“Staie bene?” Sarah asked.
“Sì.” The technician smiled and shifted the device to a different position.
The baby settled, and the parts came into focus: curled-up legs, tiny fingers and toes, and a dew-drop nose. Sarah's lip quivered, and warmth filled her chest. A baby. Eduardo's baby. Her baby. She blinked, sending tears down her face.
Eduardo brushed them, kissing her cheek then nuzzling his chin into Sarah’s hair. “Lei è perfetta,” he whispered.
Perfect. This time Sarah had no objections, no doubts in Eduardo’s assessment. Perfect, indeed.
“Perfetto,” the technician corrected. “Un ragazzino.”
Eduardo drew back, his dark eyes wide. “A boy?” He grinned. “A boy.” He flicked his eyebrows.
Warmth blossomed in her chest, as Sarah smiled, too—a broad smile that spread from ear to ear. Lucia would have a younger brother. Eduardo would have a son. Sarah didn’t care whether the baby was a boy or a girl. Because she already had everything she needed, and everything she'd ever wanted: a child
, a partner, but most of all, a family.
A word about the author…
Wendi Dass is a math professor and author from Charlottesville, Virginia. Her writing interests include literary short stories, flash fiction, and novel-length women’s fiction and romance. Wendi’s short stories have been published in several small journals, including Black Fox Literary and Pilcrow & Dagger, among others. When she’s not devising deceptively delicious problems for her students she can be found drafting her latest story.
Thank you so much for reading Bella Cigna. If you loved this book, please take a moment to leave a review on Goodreads and Amazon. Positive reviews help me continue writing great stories.
For more information on her writing, visit her at:
https://wendidass.com
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this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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contact us at
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